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“Thanks, Penny.”
She nodded, then picked up the latte and hot chocolate I’d just made and whisked them away to their waiting table. I finished the rest of the orders, then made Monty’s and Daniela’s. After another deep breath that didn’t do a whole lot to calm the sick churning in my gut, I picked up the cups and walked across to them. Monty’s welcoming smile was bright, but his eyes were filled with all sorts of warning.
He wants you to be calm and casual, Belle said.
Like I’m normally not?
Not when it comes to your family. He says your panic is often visible in your eyes.
Nothing much I can do about that. I placed their cups on the table and then said, “You wanted to speak to me?”
“This is Daniela Sarr,” Monty said smoothly. “She’s here searching for a missing witch.”
“There’s not many of us in this res; if any were missing, you’d know about it more than me.” I glanced at Daniela, my smile pleasant enough. Her eyes narrowed a little when her gaze met mine. She’d been expecting green, not silver. “I’m not sure how I can help unless you think she might be one of our customers.”
“Possibly.” Her voice was a familiar echo of Belle’s deep, rich tone. She pushed the photograph across the table toward me. “Have you seen her around?”
I studied the photo, outwardly calm, inwardly a screaming mess. It had been taken on a family outing on a yacht owned by a politician trying to curry favor with my dad, and it was a day I remembered clearly simply because of how seasick I’d gotten. Even in this photo, as old as it was, I looked rather green around the edges.
But there was no point in avoiding the obvious.
“Other than her eyes, she could almost be my sister.”
“Eye color can be changed easily enough with contacts. Lean forward.”
I hesitated then obeyed, and hoped like hell she couldn’t hear the hammering of my heart. Her gaze searched mine for several, very long seconds, and then she grunted. Her expression was an odd mix of suspicion and confusion.
The latter did nothing to ease the inner fear. “I take it the woman in the photo is not a full-blood?”
“Quite the opposite,” Daniela said. “Her parents are in fact Eleanor and Lawrence Marlowe.”
“Who I presume are persons of significance in Canberra, given the gravitas you’ve placed on their names.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You don’t kn
ow them?”
“Why would I? I grew up in Darwin.” I shrugged. “Either way, I don’t think the woman in the photo has been here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d remember seeing someone who looks like me.” My voice was dry, the inner turmoil absent. “But if you can grab something personal of hers—something she wears everyday—I might be able to track her for you.”
“That is an impossibility, I’m afraid.”
“Then I’m not sure how else I can help.” I hesitated, wanting to run but resisting the urge. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes,” she said. “The spells around this café? They have an unusual method of construction.”
I smiled, even as my stomach flip-flopped. “So Monty and every other witch who has walked in here has said.”
“They are your spells, then?”
“Not just mine. I wove some, Belle wove some, and somehow, the wild magic got mixed up in it all.”
“The wild magic has a habit of doing that,” Monty said. “I’ve sent reports back to Canberra about it.”
She nodded and leaned back in her chair to study me for a second. “According to your birth certificate, your parents were human. You shouldn’t be capable of any magic, let alone magic this strong.”
